Where Angels Fear to Tread
by misanthrope1
Summary: What happens when Hawkeye and BJ meet a war reporter and very different General? Warning! Slash. Cross with Hogan's Heroes
1. Chapter 1

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Pairing: Hawkeye/BJ, other

Rating: Captain

Warnings: Slash, crossover with Hogan's Heroes

What happens when Hawkeye and BJ meet a very unusual reporter and a different kind of General?

Author's note: Those sentences that start and end with # are conversations in German.

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

Hawkeye Pierce stretched his hands after finishing his patient. "How you doing, Beej?"

"Just fine. How many we have left?"

"You're on the last. Bad?"

"Not horrendously. Shrapnel in the leg. And some odd burns." BJ shook his head.

"Colonel Potter, aren't these people supposed to be catching our snipers?" Charles sniffed. "I thought they were supposed to be trained."

"This unit ran into a Chinese battlion. Be glad they got away as fast as they did. And I am well aware of our snipers, Winchester."

"I would just like to be able to cross the compound without being shot at," Charles snapped.

"So would the wounded, Charles." Hawkeye looked at BJ. "Beej?"

"You should see this guy, Hawk. He's nothing but scar tissue."

Hawkeye stepped over to the table. "Holy cow," he exclaimed. The lean man on BJ's table was indeed severely scarred. Hawkeye whistled. "He's been shot how many times?"

"Bullet wounds, knife scars, burns--who is this guy?"

"He doesn't have dog tags," Hawkeye said, checking the man's neck.

"He must be the war correspondent," Potter commented, coming over. "Attached to the British unit. Peter Newkirk from the London Sun Times."

BJ snorted. "All these scars from reporting?"

Potter shrugged. "You can ask him later. I have to get ready for that General's visit." Potter snorted. "He has great timing, I'll say that."

"Isn't that some major general?" Winchester asked, finishing his patient.

"Yes," Major Houlihan said. "An air force general. He hasn't been to Korea before. His name is Hogan. Major General Hogan."

"Of course Margaret knows," Hawkeye said. "Look at these odd scars across his chest." He tapped the man's chest. Long, fine lines of scar tissue criss crossed the man's chest.

"Looks like knife wounds," Potter said. "Or wire."

BJ shook his head as he stitched. "I feel like I'm darning an old sock. I'm not even sewing skin. I'm sewing scar tissue." He touched his patient's leg. "Pure muscle, though. Whipcord and bone."

"Will he be all right?" Margaret asked.

"Should be fine," BJ said. "He's tough." He gave one last stitch. "There we go."

"Did you see his back?" Hawkeye asked, moving the patient's shoulder. "He's been torn apart!" Faded lashmarks coated the patient's back. Major Houlihan gasped.

"Makes me glad I didn't become a journalist," Winchester said. He touched the marks. "Whipmarks?"

"Who knows?" BJ asked. "Klinger!"

"You bellowed?"

"Post op," BJ said. Klinger nodded.

Potter left the OR and went to the shower. After a long shower and quick check of the office, he met Pierce and Hunnicutt at the Mess Tent, each picking at their food. "Hey boys," he greeted.

"Hey, Colonel." Hawkeye pushed his pork chop around the tray. "How's the General?"

"Wouldn't know, he's not here yet."

BJ and Hawkeye exchanged looks. "He was in here a few minutes ago," BJ said.

"He what?"

"Tall guy, greying dark hair." Hawkeye nibbled his chop. "Kinda young for a general."

"Seems decent enough," BJ added. "Not a stuffed shirt. Said Klinger looked lovely in his spring hat."

Potter rolled his eyes. "There he is," Hawkeye said. Potter looked up. A taller than average man with rich black hair sprinkled with silver and dark eyes strolled into the tent. He wore an immaculate air force uniform and a seemingly genuine smile. Potter stood and walked to him. "Major General Hogan?"

"Colonel Potter," the man grinned wider. "Pleasure to meet you." They shook hands.

"I didn't know you were here," he said.

"It's all right. Your camp is fascinating. Corporal Klinger showed me the VIP tent."

Potter nodded. "Come meet my crack staff."

He led the general to Pierce and Hunnicutt. "Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt, this is Major General Hogan. General, these are two of my cutters."

"Hi," Hawkeye greeted. "Care to join us for dinner? I know it's not what you're used to but we don't get steak up here. Unless someone hits a cow, that is."

"Pierce," Potter warned.

"Actually, it's better than what I've eaten before." The general eyed Hawkeye with what could only be interpeted as amusement.

"You'll have to be careful, General. We have a sniper problem."

Klinger swept into the tent. "Dr. Hunnicutt, Major Houlihan needs you in Post Op," he said.

"Hell." BJ stood up. "Which one?"

"The war correspondent."

Hunnicutt nodded and left, Pierce following. In Post Op, Houlihan bent over a patient's bed, talking softly. "Major?" BJ questioned.

"Dr. Hunnicutt, this is Peter Newkirk. He's a bit erratic."

Blazing green eyes met BJ's gaze. "I'm not erratic. I just want to know 'ow bad my wounds are."

"You'll be fine if you rest. Basically your leg's held together with surgical thread. I'm impressed you're awake already."

"I'm used to this."

"From all your scars, I'd say so," Hawkeye commented.

"Who are you?"

"Dr. Pierce. What kind of reporting do you do? I haven't seen so many scars on anyone, not even the Marines."

"Just part of the job, Doc. When can I leave?"

"Relax, pal, it'll be awhile." Hunnicutt studied his patient. "Get some rest."

Hawkeye shook his head as they walked off. "Beej, you've got to figure out what's going on with that man. He's going to kill himself."

"Tomorrow, Hawk, I'm exhausted."

"All right." Hawkeye touched his friend's shoulder. They walked to the Swamp and BJ fell into his bunk. Hawkeye handed him a drink. He looked around the tent and then kissed BJ quickly. He and BJ had been lovers for almost six months and he was still on cloud nine. He'd never thought the younger surgeon would have feelings for him until one night, in a semi drunken mood, he'd dared kiss BJ and then found himself fending off a passionate response. BJ threaded his fingers through Hawkeye's hair and pulled him close. After a long kiss, BJ finally let Hawkeye go and the older surgeon sat back on his bunk. "Wow," Hawkeye said. He smiled into the dark.

"Just wait until I'm actually alive."

Hawkeye fell asleep almost immediately. BJ listened to his lover sleep and tried to sleep as well. He woke to Hawkeye tapping his shoulder as bullets whined into the compound. "What?" BJ mumbled.

"Come on, Beej. Time to get up."

BJ dragged himself up. They waited. As the sniper fire didn't return, they hurried to the Mess Tent. At breakfast, they spotted Major Houlihan flirting with Major General Hogan. "Margaret is looking to fly," Hawkeye said.

"I hope he has good takeoff," BJ retorted.

"Powerful thrust."

"And can keep his flaps up."

Hawkeye chuckled. Charles sauntered in and sat beside them. "I see Major Houlihan has a new friend," Charles commented.

"He is a Major General," Hawkeye said.

"Decorated flyboy," Charles snorted. "What is it with intelligent women and pilots?"

"He's successful and high ranking. He's probably younger than you, Charles, and he's a Major General."

"And has hair," BJ added. Charles narrowed his eyes and BJ grinned. BJ looked over at Hogan again. The Major General _was _extremely handsome and had a charming smile. BJ blinked, realized he was staring. He rarely looked at men save Hawkeye. Hawkeye, whose incredible eyes and hands drew his attention from the first time they'd met. BJ swallowed hard. Hawkeye had fast replaced Peg in his heart although he kept that to himself. He'd seen how his lover avoided commitment like the plague and he had no intention of losing what little sanity he had.

"Hunnicutt, please." Charles' voice drew BJ back to the present. "I save lives. The most that man has done is create jet trails."

"BJ?"

BJ turned his head. Nurse Kellye stood beside him. "Newkirk?" BJ groaned, instinctively knowing the reporter was awake. Kellye nodded and BJ sighed. "On my way."

"Is that the General?" Kellye asked.

"That's him," Hawkeye said.

Kellye smiled, scanning Hogan. "Wow, he's a lot handsomer than I thought he'd be."

Winchester rolled his eyes. BJ stood and headed for Post OP, glancing at Hogan again. Hawkeye followed him. "What was that for?" Hawkeye asked as they entered Post Op.

"What?"

"That look."

"What are you talking about?"

"You gave Hogan a look."

"So?" BJ grabbed Newkirk's chart.

"You were sizing him up," Hawkeye hissed.

BJ stared at Hawkeye. "Are you jealous?" he whispered, stifling a giggle.

"Please," Hawkeye scoffed. Yet the tiny edge to his soft voice told BJ Hawkeye _was_ jealous. BJ hid a smile and looked at his patient.

"Is there a problem, Newkirk?"

"I just want to move and the nurses 'ere won't let me."

"You had surgery yesterday," BJ sighed. "Can you relax?"

"It's ruddy boring. 'Aven't you any books, something? And what's all the shooting for?"

"Snipers. We'll try to find you something to do," BJ said.

"Maybe you can interview our visiting General." Hawkeye checked Newkirk's dressings.

"And who's that?"

"An Air Force General."

"Yank?"

"If you mean American, yes," BJ said. "Major General Hogan."

The war correspondent lunged upright. "Robert E. Hogan? US Air Force?" he blurted.

"Easy, easy!" BJ ordered.

"I 'ave to see him." Newkirk struggled to his feet.

"Hey, lay down!" Hawkeye said in alarm.

"No! I have to see him!"

I'll bring him here," BJ said, grabbing the man. Hard muscle shifted under his hands. "Just give me a minute."

"'E can't leave!"

"We'll get him, I promise!" BJ eased Newkirk down. "Give me ten minutes."

"Ten," Newkirk repeated, eyes glittering. "I'll 'old you to that, doc."

BJ nodded. "I'll find him now."


	2. Chapter 2

He walked off, Hawkeye with him. They luckily ran into Major General Hogan with Potter, Margaret, and Charles, all drinking coffee in the Mess Tent. "Problems?" Potter asked. "Besides the snipers?"

"Something the General might be able to help us with," Hawkeye said.

"How can I help?" Hogan asked.

"Maybe a patient needs a plane ride," Charles archedly said.

"It's a reporter," BJ said. "He says he needs to see you. I'd appreciate the help, General. He's a bit hard to keep in his bunk and he's determined to find you."

"I'm not a big reporter fan," Hogan hedged.

"Please," Hawkeye said. "This guy's going to rip his stitches out to see you."

"All right." Hogan rubbed his temples. "What's his name?"

"Newkirk, Peter Newkirk," Hawkeye replied.

Hogan's face drained of all color and his fingers clenched his coffee mug. "General?" Margaret asked. The General stood and darted out of the Mess Tent. The medical staff exchanged looks and followed hastily.

Hogan stepped into Post Op, trying to control his racing heart. His gaze flicked over each bed. "Gov'nor?" a soft voice called.

Hogan jerked and a wide grin curved his lips. "Peter!" He strode forward and carefully clasped Newkirk close. "Hello, Peter," he said. Strong arms wrapped around him. "What are you doing in Korea?!"

"Could ask you the same thing, gov!"

Hawkeye and BJ exchanged looks. The Major General embraced the war reporter tight then eased the thinner man down onto his cot. "What have you done to yourself now?" Hogan scolded, eyes bright.

"Ah, you know me, Rob." The Englishman's eyes danced. "Just traveling 'ere and there. 'Ow are James and Jean?"

"They're great. Wondering when their Uncle Peter will pop by again." Hogan sat down on Newkirk's cot.

BJ strolled over, the rest of the staff trailing behind. "You two know each other, I see," he dryly said.

"We ruddy well should. The Major General 'ere was my CO for over three years," Newkirk said.

"You were in the air force together?" Potter asked.

The two men chuckled. "I was a lowly RAF gunner," Newkirk explained. "Colonel, er, Major General Hogan led a bomber squadron. No, we met in Stalag 13."

The medical staff exchanged looks. "A POW camp," Hogan said.

"Germany?" Potter asked.

"Near Hammelburg," Hogan said.

"Hogan was the senior POW officer at Stalag 13. We shared a barracks."

"Three years?" Margaret asked.

"Well, four for Newkirk," Hogan said. "You were shot down in 41, right?"

"January 17, 1941," Newkirk expanded. "And Hogan joined us in 42 when 'e was shot down."

Hawkeye flushed suddenly. "That's what you meant by the mess food comment."

Hogan nodded. "You haven't had rotten food until you eat boiled cabbage for two weeks in a row."

"Yeah, the Krauts never could cook. We would 'ave died without Louie."

The two men began chatting and the MASH staff wandered away. "Well, I'm embarrassed," Hawkeye said.

"Can you imagine? Three years in a POW camp?" BJ stared at the two men.

"And here I thought this cesspool was bad," Charles said.

"That could explain some of his scars," Margaret said.

"They seem close," Charles commented.

"Three years, Charles, with no R&R." BJ cocked an eyebrow. "No booze. No breaks."

"No women." Hawkeye shuddered.

"I would have thrown myself into the barbed wire," Charles retorted.

"Explains a lot," Potter said. "The scars at least."

"Not all those scars are that old," BJ said. He looked over his shoulder. "Nice to see Hogan cares for his men."

"Hogan, is it?" Charles asked.

"He's a decent guy for a general," BJ defended.

"I'm surprised," Margaret commented. "You and Pierce usually hate all generals."

"You like them enough to make up for us," Hawkeye said. "Weren't you flirting with him at breakfast?"

Maragaret glared. "General Hogan is a fascinating man. He has two little children and is a widower. His wife died in childbirth. I am simply being friendly."

"I'll be your friend," Hawkeye said with a leer. BJ hid a pang of disgusted jealousy.

"Break it up, people," Potter ordered. The medical staff headed to their various tasks. Charles headed back to Post Op.

Hawkeye eyed BJ as they walked to the Swamp. "You like him," he accused

"I just said he was decent! Stop being paranoid."

"And the looking him over?" Hawkeye asked.

"I didn't!"

"So you don't think he's attractive?" Hawkeye opened the door to the Swamp. BJ walked in.

"I hadn't noticed."

"What color eyes does he have?"

"Hogan? Brown, why?"

"I knew it!" Hawkeye tossed a pillow at BJ. "You like him!"

The younger surgeon rolled his eyes. "He's good looking, yes," BJ admitted. "But I'm not looking at him like that."

"Just how are you looking at him?"

"God!" BJ grabbed Hawkeye and kissed him. Hawkeye wrapped his arms around BJ and purred as BJ nuzzled his ear. Then the two reluctantly went to their separate cots. "When is Charles due back?" BJ moaned.

"Too soon." Hawkeye fluffed his pillow. "Can you imagine? Three years with no women? Or booze?"

"Makes this hellhole seem nice."


	3. Chapter 3

Hogan studied his old friend. Newkirk's green eyes gleamed brightly in his thin face and he watched his former CO intently. "You look like hell," Hogan said.

"Just a bit of shrapnel." Newkirk sat up, watching Hogan. "I've 'ad a lot worse."

"That's frightening. Seen anyone lately?"

"Saw Louie three months ago." Newkirk leaned forward. "'E's fine. His three kids are right rips. Kinch and Andrew write more than you." He arched an eyebrow. "I saw them when I popped by your place last year."

"Been keeping busy?"

"Too much. And what are you doing here? You don't travel the Asian theatre."

"Checking up on a few loose ends. Glad I did." Hogan grinned. Newkirk chuckled.

"Damn, gov, it's good to see you."

"You, too." Hogan clasped Newkirk's shoulder. His smile slipped slightly as he felt bones under his fingers. "Not eating much, I see."

"It's pretty much grab and run." Newkirk moved and winced. "Can't believe I ruddy got hit."

"What happened?"

"Mortar attack."

A pretty nurse stopped by. "I need to change the patient's dressings," she said, smiling at Hogan.

"Ah," Newkirk started.

"It's all right, old boy." Hogan grinned. "We've got plenty of time." He stood. "I'll be back."

"You better not leave," Newkirk threatened.

"Not a chance."

Hogan headed for the tent called the Swamp where he'd been told the surgeons lived. He knocked politely.

"Enter."

He stepped inside a disorganized, sloppy mess. The smell of mildewing clothes and old blood permeated the tent. Pierce and Hunnicutt sprawled on their cots. "General," Dr. Hunnicutt exclaimed. Pierce sat up.

"Take a seat. Pardon the mess, our maid's on strike," Hawkeye said.

"Since when?"

"1950," BJ said.

Hogan grinned. "I've come to ask about Newkirk," he said, sitting down. Hawkeye handed him a martini. Hogan sipped it and shuddered.

"What do you want to know?" BJ asked. "He'll heal if he stays still."

"Is there anything else?" Hogan leaned forward. "He looks ill."

"We're surgeons here, General. We don't often get a chance to do a patient study." BJ swallowed his martini. "I'll tell you one thing, he's killing himself. We work on everyone from MacArthur to marines and I've never seen the amount of damage that Newkirk has taken. Maybe his editor can give him a desk job."

"Scars?"

"He's been torn apart and reconstructed," Hawkeye said. "His chest looks like he tackled a tiger. And his back?"

Hawkeye shook his head. "What happened there?"

Hogan nodded. "Gestapo," he said quietly.

Hawkeye and BJ exchanged looks. "He was tortured?" Hawkeye demanded.

"That's what the Gestapo did." Hogan sipped his martini, winced. "Remind me to send you guys some good alcohol."

"This morning was very good for gin." Hawkeye drank his martini fast.

"General, Newkirk has to be feeling those scars. I mean, he has to feel those injuries when he moves. Muscles are stiffer, slower with that much scar tissue. Possible nerve damage." BJ spread his hands.

Hogan nodded. "You seem awfully concerned," Hawkeye said. "Forgive me, General, but he's not under your command, not anymore. He's a reporter."

"He's my friend," Hogan said tightly.

"I can give him a physical," BJ offered.

"Thank you. I'll tell him to cooperate."

"Will he listen?"

Hogan gave a tight smile. "He will to me." He eyed Hawkeye. "He's a lot like you. He dislikes officers, too."

Hawkeye shrugged. "I'm just a draftee doctor."

Hogan stood. "Thank you."

"I'll give him a physical tomorrow. We'll probably evac him the day after."

"I'll take him. I have to go to Kimpo anyway."

"No problem," BJ said.

Hogan left and walked back to Post Op. There he sat next to Newkirk as the man slept.

BJ eyed Hawkeye. "He's not that bad," he said.

"He seems all right. He's a General, though."

"He cares for his man."

"You really have it bad, don't you?"

BJ groaned. "I simply meant he's kind."

"And you want to jump his bones."

"No, I want _you_." BJ walked over and straddled Hawkeye. He looked down at his lover. "Hogan is sexy, yes." He kissed Hawkeye hard, wrapping his fingers in Hawkeye's hair. Hawkeye arched his back, ground his hips against BJ's. "But you're _breathtaking_."

Hawkeye moaned. BJ kissed him again and returned to his cot.

"Bastard," Hawkeye gasped. "Damn it, Beej."

BJ simply chuckled.

Newkirk woke early in the morning. "What are you doing here, gov?" he demanded.

"Just keeping an eye on things, Peter."

Newkirk blinked. A pleased smile curved his lips. "Thank you," he quietly said. Hogan stretched and smiled.

BJ walked over as he finished his rounds. "Morning." He looked at Newkirk. "I'd like to check a few more things out. When you're done with breakfast, I'll take you to the exam room."

"Why?" Newkirk asked suspiciously.

"Routine," BJ lightly said.

"Peter, please," Hogan murmured. Newkirk squinted at him and Hogan smiled charmingly. BJ blinked, feeling a rush of attraction and Newkirk sighed in frustration.

"Just for you, gov."

In the exam room, BJ carefully checked out the thin man. As he studied each scar, he shook his head. "What kind of reporting do you do?" he demanded. Neither he nor Newkirk noted General Hogan slipping into the back of the exam room.

"All of it." Newkirk grinned at him. "Just a few marks 'ere and there, doc."

BJ frowned. "How did you get burn scars on your thighs? Those are fairly fresh."

"Tripped on an electric fence."

BJ pressed his shoulder. "Wait a minute," he said. He walked to the door and called out. Hawkeye scurried in.

"Rotten snipers," Hawkeye said.

"You all right?' BJ asked.

"Fine. The General's jeep may never be the same."

"Check out his right shoulder," BJ said.

Hawkeye shrugged and examined Newkirk's right shoulder. He pressed like BJ had done and his eyes lit. "Have you broken your collarbone?" he asked.

"Twice," Newkirk said.

"You have cartilage degradation," Hawkeye said. "You can hear a slight rasp in your joint. You've abused your body a lot."

"Reporting can be tough, mate."  
BJ gently pressed down Newkirk's spine, checking the verterbra. "You need a different job. You're killing yourself. How old are you?"

"41," Newkirk said.

"You keep going like this and you'll never see 50," BJ said. "Come on to X-ray. I want to X-ray your shoulder."

Newkirk sighed but agreed. BJ x rayed the shoulder and also his spine and chest. BJ studied the films carefully and Hawkeye shook his head. "See the previous breaks?" he asked quietly. He tapped the left shoulder and the ribcage.

BJ nodded. "He's had more than one."

"He's been beaten a lot." Hawkeye sighed. "Damn."

BJ walked into the exam room where Newkirk sat, dressed and sipping coffee. Hogan stood next to him. "Come to check on your friend?" BJ asked, smiling suddenly. Hawkeye grunted behind him. He understood BJ's looking--Hogan _was_ attractive--but it bothered him. BJ was his, damn it. Part of him longed to toss BJ onto the exam table and prove it, claim him once and for all.

"Someone has to," Hogan smiled. Hawkeye bit his lip as BJ chuckled.

BJ looked at Newkirk. "Take my advice. Take a vacation and figure out something easier to do."

Newkirk nodded, a half smile curving his lips. Hogan's eyes filled with worry and he began pacing. "I'm fine, gov."

Newkirk stood. "I 'ave to call the Sun."

"Go see Klinger," BJ said.


	4. Chapter 4

Newkirk limped into the camp's office. The swarthy Lebanese corporal nodded to him. "The doctors said you could lend me your phone, mate."

"Sure thing. You OK, sir?"

"Fine. And I'm no sir. Name's Newkirk."

"I'm Klinger."

They shook hands. "Who are you calling?" Klinger asked.

"My employer." Newkirk took the chair offered. "While the call goes through, what's my doc really like? He seems decent."

"BJ? You bet. BJ is a great guy. Little nuts sometimes but that's nothing new."

"He hangs out with Pierce?"

"That's how you find them. If you want Hawkeye, just look for BJ and vice versa. Say, are you really friends with that Major General?"

"The gov'nor and I go back a long ways."

"Can he take me with him? I'd be a great aide. And it's not forever, just until we get to the States."

"Sorry, mate. Hogan's my friend but I can't make him do anything."

Klinger sighed dramatically. "Worth a shot." He shouldered a large bag of mail. "See you around."

"All right. Thanks."

"Anytime."

Hogan looked at BJ. "Is he ill?"

"He's rundown, wore out." BJ leaned against the wall. "His body is going to start reacting seriously. His joints are already showing signs of arthitis. Was he in a train accident?"

"No, not that I know of. Why?"

"His body. There's a tremendous amount of damage."

Hogan studied BJ directly in the eyes. "What should he do?"

"He should find an easier job," BJ sighed. "Or stop running into battle. At the very least, he needs a long break to allow his body time to recover, to gain weight and relax."

"And what does he do, General? What reporter suffers these kind of injuries?" Hawkeye looked at Hogan.

"Newkirk reports everything." Hogan rubbed his chin. "I appreciate your help. Both of you."

BJ looked at Hogan. "General, just so you know, I told him this. He'll never see 50 if his body doesn't get a break. He's not 25. Great shape or not, he's getting older. Even 25 year olds would feel those traumas. This doesn't even touch mental stress."

"Thank you."

Hogan headed to find Newkirk. He waited while Newkirk chatted on the phone. Seeing him, Newkirk grinned and finished his call. "Want a drink?" Hogan asked. "I have tea in my tent."

"Proper tea?" Newkirk asked.

"Come see."

"Won't your aide be curious?"

"I don't have an aide," Hogan snorted. "Most are useless."

"You 'ave got to be kidding!" They walked off towards the VIP tent. BJ and Hawkeye saw them pass. BJ looked at his lover.

"You ever think..." He gestured to where Hogan had gone.

"What? You're the one oogling him." Hawkeye's dark blue eyes flashed and BJ hid a smile. Being incredibly possessive and squirming whenever Hawkeye flirted with the nurses, it felt nice to have the shoe on the other foot. BJ smiled lazily.

"I'm not oogling him."

"You said he was attractive." In Hawkeye's annoyed tone, BJ heard jealousy, anger, and a touch of...fear?

BJ caved. "You know who I love, Hawk." BJ looked intently at Hawkeye, allowing his heart to show. Hawkeye gazed at him and then felt his cheeks heat. The younger man grinned. Hawkeye tried to breath.

"You're going to get us in trouble."

"Why? Are you going to ravage me in the compound?"

Hawkeye stared at BJ. BJ winked and Hawkeye rolled his eyes, tossing an arm over his lover's shoulders. "Come on," Hawkeye said. "Let's ask about this reporter."

"Three years," BJ murmured.

"If that were us, you'd have a full time job keeping me sane."

"If that were us, we'd both be insane."

They chatted to some of the other patients. "Newkirk?" a british corporal said. "He's hardly ever around us."

"I thought he was assigned to your unit," Hawkeye said.

"He is, kind of." The corporal smiled. "But he goes where he pleases. He's funny, tells great stories, and don't play poker with him. Most of our unit owes him money. He's clumsy, though. We try to watch him."

"Clumsy?"

"Trips a lot. Falls and always seems bruised. He's a good reporter, though."

Another soldier nodded. "He's always scribbling. Drives our commanding officer a bit daft with his continual roaming. But he's allowed. He goes where he wants and returns to the unit to eat. Nice enough chap."

Hawkeye saw a lean soldier pale. "Hawkins?" he asked. "You all right?" He walked over.

"He saved us," Hawkins whispered. "No one believes me. But he radioed us of the Chinese battlion. And then he came back and dragged our wounded to safety."

Hawkeye blinked at BJ. "Seems our war reporter is a bit unusual."

"Seems he's a hero. Come on, Hawk." The two doctors walked out and BJ suddenly smirked.

"What?"

"Three years locked up with you. I know what I'd do."

Hawkeye smiled suggestively. "What?" he purred.

BJ opened the supply tent door. "Let me show you."

--------


	5. Chapter 5

In the VIP tent, Hogan brewed tea. "So how's the 'Sun' been treating you?" he asked casually.

"Good. Busy." Newkirk stretched. "Cor, I hate hospitals."

#"Why are you in Korea?"# Hogan asked.

Newkirk blinked at the switch to German. #"I go a lot of places, gov. I am here to scout out the Chinese. I can tell you that."#

#"War correspondant?"#

#"Who else gets to roam around without drawing suspicion? I can't ruddy say 'hey, I'm MI-6, tell me everything."#

#"Your German is even better," # Hogan blurted. #"You've been practicing."#

#"I'm a frequent visitor. You should hear my Russian."# Newkirk grinned wider, sipping the tea. "Good job. We'll make an Englander out of you yet."

#"Maybe I can join MI-6 as well."#

Newkirk's eyes gleamed. #"Love to have you. Why are you here?"#

"Honestly, I'm checking up on a few of our planes and pilots. That's it."

Newkirk nodded. Hogan eyed his friend. "I spoke to your doctors," he said.

"And what do the leeches 'ave to say?"

"They told me you're dying."

Newkirk sighed. "I'm not dying, gov. I do have a few scars."

"I came into the exam room."

Newkirk froze. "Bleedin' hell," he murmured. "It's not as bad as it looked."

#"Electric fence?"# Hogan asked. #"Who got friendly with electric current?"#

#"You know I can't tell you that, gov."# Newkirk finished his tea.

Hogan rubbed his eyes. #"Peter, you've been in MI-6, what, seven years?"#

#"'Bout that."#

#"And three years with me. That's ten years as a spy."# Newkirk nodded, watching Hogan closely.

"I'm ruddy good at what I do."

#"I _know_ you're terrific. Ten years, however, is a long time in the intelligence field. Especially as an active agent."# Left unspoken was the fact both knew. Most agents never survived ten years active. Of course most didn't have saboteur training.

"What are you saying, gov? I should quit?" Newkirk teased.

"Not quit." Hogan inhaled. "Join me."

Newkirk jerked. "What?"

"I need an aide, a smart one. You can do it."

"You're blooming daft!"

"It's perfect."

"Gov, we're not even in the same army!"

"I can wrangle it."

"An aide?"

"You know how I like my coffee, can keep track of my schedule, and keep me up to date."

"I don't think my bosses will just let me go," Newkirk said.

"We can work it out. And you won't be bored."

Newkirk leaned back, eyes glinting. "You've been keeping your 'and in, 'aven't you, mate?" Hogan merely smiled. Newkirk bit his lip. For a moment, Hogan saw the stress Newkirk carefully kept hidden. It helped confirm what he'd been wondering, if his old friend was exhausting himself. "It's awful tempting, gov."

"So do it."

Newkirk looked at his hands. "Even if we work it out military wise, there's another problem, Rob." Hogan tilted his head at the rare usage of his first name.

"What?"

"Do you remember that night before you left London?"

Hogan leaned back and smiled. "Oh, yes," he softly said. Newkirk's neck began reddening. "And I remember those few nights we managed to catch."

"That's the problem. I remember, too." Newkirk's voice tightened. Hogan studied him. "Gov, you 'ave kids."

And?"

"I--I can't just forget those nights." Peter's cheeks blazed red.

Hogan cocked an eyebrow. "I'm flattered. After all, you've had an incredible array of women."

"How would you know?" Newkirk demanded, face still red.

"Newkirk, I do keep track of my friends. And I know something of your escapades. I meant what I said. Your female conquests are impressive. Germans, Russians, Americans, French--you have had a United Nations of women."

"Look in the mirror, gov," Newkirk said sourly, flicking his eyes up briefly. "Every nurse here is talking about you." Hogan smiled wider. "They've been asking me all about you. And what about you and the head nurse?"

"She's lovely. But we're not involved."

"I didn't think you were. Anyway, you know my problem then."

"What?" Hogan asked, lips quirking.

Peter glared at him, finally staring at him in the eye. "I don't think I could handle being so close to you all right?! Maybe it was the alcohol and the fact that there were no birds in Stalag 13, at least not often, but that's not the problem now! You--you ruddy well enter my dreams! Still!"

"You're an idiot, Peter."

Hogan stood up and loomed over his former subordinate. Newkirk stared at him with wide eyes yet the rebellious spark Hogan knew so well blazed bright. Hogan grabbed Newkirk's chin and kissed him hard. Newkirk carded his fingers through Hogan's hair and yanked the older man down.

--------------------

Hawkeye trailed a hand over BJ's sweaty back. The taller man yawned and wrapped his arms around Hawkeye's bare waist. "We should get dressed," he mumbled.

"Um." Hawkeye cautiously stood up and dressed. "Damn, Beej."

BJ chortled throatily and stood, yanking his clothes on hastily. "Problems?"

Hawkeye admired BJ's body as he dressed, feeling a bittersweet ache in his chest. Being in love with BJ could be difficult. Yet, loving BJ was easy. "I just need a week to recover."

"Are you saying the camp casanova can't keep up?" BJ grinned.

"Just hit the showers," Hawkeye ordered.

BJ laughed and left. Hawkeye waited patiently for five minutes then left. He walked to the showers to find BJ soaking under hot water and humming quietly. Hawkeye took the second stall. BJ smiled at him as he rinsed lather from hair. "You took your time," BJ said.

"I was tired," Hawkeye said. "And Klinger said he had news for us."

BJ nodded. He rinsed and toweled off. He looked at Hawkeye. "Meet you at the Mess Tent," he said.

"You got it."

BJ met Klinger at the Mess Tent before Hawkeye. "Got you some news," Klinger said. "That reporter is legit. The London Sun has numerous articles by him."

"Any of them say how he got so scarred?"

"Just that he likes to travel with the troops. And he goes everywhere."

Potter walked in and sat by BJ. "Where's Pierce?"

"Showering. Why?"

"Flagg's in camp."

"Hell," BJ swore. "Why?"

"He's just here. Say, I see your patient is gone."

"He's with the General," BJ yawned. He waved lazily at Hawkeye as he came into the Mess Tent.

"Is it true they were in a POW camp?" Klinger asked.

"According to the General," Potter said.

"There's more." BJ waited until Hawkeye sat down beside him, quivered as Hawkeye squeezed his thigh under the table. "Those whipmarks?" Potter nodded. "It appears our reporter ran into the Gestapo."

Potter's eyes widened and Klinger stared. "As in Nazi Gestapo?" Klinger demanded.

"Jackboots and all," Hawkeye said.

Potter shook his head. "That explains those scars."

"The Gestapo whipped him?" Klinger whispered.

"And probably did more." Potter drank his coffee. "Those boys played for keeps." He looked at Hawkeye. "Flagg is here, Pierce."

"Now there's something to darken my day," Hawkeye said.

Winchester entered the Mess Tent. "Colonel, I hear General Hogan doesn't have an aide," he said. "Does he have a physician?"

"No and forget it, Winchester. I need you here." Potter glared at him.

"He doesn't have an aide? Quick, Beej, pinch me. A General without a staff?"

"How long will he be here?" Winchester asked, clearly miffed. Hawkeye jerked as BJ pinched his leg lightly.

"Probably two more days. Why do you care?"

"He's disturbing the patients. "

"In what way, Winchester?"

"Staying all night in Post Op for one thing." Winchester sipped his coffee. "He sat beside his man all night."

"And?" Potter asked. "How did he disturb the patients?"

"By being there," Winchester said.

"If simply being there disturbed our patients, they'd go crazy when you were there," Hawkeye said.

Winchester glared at him. "And when is the reporter leaving, Hunnicutt?"

"He's going with the General," BJ said. "Hogan said he'd take him to Kimpo."

"It must be nice to be so privileged. And where is he now?" Winchester said.

"With Hogan," BJ retorted. "Newkirk is a survivor, Winchester. Lay off."

"All our patients are survivors," Charles reminded. "What makes him special?"

"He wasn't just a POW, he was also a Gestapo guest, Charles. Do you want that privilege?" BJ snapped.

Charles blanched. "It appears I spoke out of turn," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Hunnicutt, how are your other patients?" Potter asked.

"All doing well. Benson is running a fever but I'm on top of it."

Potter nodded. "The general complimented me on our work. Good job, all. And I'm still trying to get something done about the snipers."

"Do we get a raise?" Hawkeye wolfed his potatoes.

"Ask Hogan." Potter drank his coffee and flinched. "Ask him for better coffee, too."

----


	6. Chapter 6

Newkirk stretched and winced. Despite Hogan's caution, he knew he'd strained his sutures. Yet as he nuzzled Hogan's warm shoulder, he realized he didn't care. Hogan pulled him close and traced the scars across his chest. "I need a shower," Hogan mumbled.

"Me, too," Newkirk agreed. "I 'ave to get my clothes first. And I better get back to my hospital cot before the doctors come looking."

"I'll get my shower and get your papers in order."

Newkirk watched as Hogan stood and pulled on fatigues and a robe. "You seem ruddy sure of yourself." Hogan shot him a grin.

"I get what I want. Go back to Post Op, Peter. I'll see you later."

"And just 'ow do you keep any birds if you treat them like this?" Newkirk asked. "Thanks for the tumble, luv, now toddle off until I come get you again?"

Hogan broke into laughter. "Do you want to cuddle?" he joked. Newkirk glared at him and Hogan kissed him. "Go on, Peter."

Newkirk grumbled and dressed. Hogan walked him to Post Op and then went to shower. Major Houlihan nodded at Newkirk as he came in. "Are you all right?" she asked. "How's your leg?"

"It's fine, Major." He smiled. "Just had a spot of tea."

"You had tea?" a patient asked. "Proper tea?" Newkirk grinned as faces lit through the ward.

"Can Yanks make proper tea?" he asked as he sat on his bed. "Sorry, mates, you'll 'ave to wait until you're back at your unit. Or home."

He dug out his rucksack. He waited patiently until Major Houlihan was occupied then limped off to the shower. Alone, he scrubbed off the traces and scents of sex and dressed. And dressed properly. Long bladed daggers went in custom made sheaths and a pistol carefully secreted. MASH unit or not, he wanted to be prepared.

As he stepped into the compound, he spotted his doctor. Dr. Hunnicutt saw him and sighed. "Why aren't you in Post Op?" he demanded.

"I needed a shower."

"You're a patient!" Dr. Hunnicutt tossed his hands in the air. "Do you listen to anyone? Get back to Post Op!"

Newkirk grinned. "You sound like the gov'nor. I'm fine."

"Come on." Dr. Hunnicutt helped him to Post Op.

"I can walk." Newkirk opened the door.

The doctor escorted him to his bed. He checked the wound. "It's swollen," he said. "You've been on it too long. Now stay in bed before I tie you to it!"

"OK, doc. Where's your mate?"

The brown haired surgeon jerked as if stabbed. "Mate?' he blurted. Newkirk inwardly smiled. The doctor had confirmed a theory, one he'd wondered about since he'd seen Hawkeye and BJ together.

"Oh, that's right, you Yanks never could speak proper English. Mate means friend."

"I'm sorry, I knew that. It just startled me." He inhaled. "Hawkeye's not on duty tonight."

Newkirk cocked his head. "He's been with you awhile, hasn't he?"

"We've been assigned here for some time, yeah."

Newkirk studied the young doctor curiously. "Make your best friends in war," he said.

"So I hear." The surgeon's voice tightened. Newkirk scanned him again, not actually surprised at the tension he sensed. The surgeon looked away. "Just rest." Newkirk nodded and leaned back. "General Hogan said he'd take you to Kimpo."

"I know. The gov'nor told me. I'll be out of your 'air soon."

"Think about what I said. You need to give your body a break."

"I'll think about it."

Hunniciutt nodded and then turned as a muscular man stalked into the hospital. "Well, well, Pierce's Commie loving friend," the man sneered.

"Colonel Flagg. I heard you were around. Someone writing letters to the Kremlin again?"

"Funny. I bet your jokes do well with Mao."

"Actually, they're better with gin." Dr. Hunnicutt gave the stranger a look of loathing. "What are you doing in Post Op?"

"I hear you have some Chinese here."

"They're in no condition to talk to you."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"No, I will. I'm the doctor, Colonel Flagg, not you."

"And I'm a Colonel, Captain."

"Go see the Colonel, Colonel. He'll back me up."

"I'll do that." The man looked around, noted Newkirk's interested gaze. "What are you looking at?"

"You're making it bleedin' hard to sleep."

"Great, a limey. What kind of hospital is this?"

"The British are our Allies, Flagg." Hunnicutt stared at the man. "You remember allies? Those people working with us?"

"As long as they're not subversives. Who are you soldier?"

Newkirk grinned. "Peter Newkirk, reporter."

"Let him alone, Flagg."

"Why don't you go heal someone, doctor?"

"Get out, Flagg." Hunnicutt stepped between Newkirk and the Colonel. "Get out of here now!"

Colonel Flagg pointed a finger at Hunnicutt. "Just wait, Hunnicutt. You're heading for a world of hurt." He left and Newkirk looked at his doctor.

"Who's he?"

"Local pest. Don't worry about him."

"He's looking for subversives?"

"Subversives, subverters, submarines. Colonel Flagg is always looking for something."

"Huh."

Hunnicutt smiled. "Don't worry. Get some rest."

Newkirk watched the doctor check on other patients. He settled back on his cot and thought.

----

BJ stalked into Potter's office. "What is he doing here?" he demanded. He gestured to Flagg, standing in the corner.

"Hello to you, too, Hunnicutt," Potter calmly said, signing papers.

"Colonel Flagg is a menace."

Hey!" Flagg snapped.

"All right, he's a menace. And?" Potter said.

"He wants to interrogate patients!"

"Hunnicutt, he can speak to the prisoners. Flagg, you be very careful how you tread."

"Fine."

BJ glared at Flagg and then looked at Potter. "Is that it?" he asked.

"What do you want?"

"Kick him out of camp."

"You can't do that," Flagg said.

"He's allowed, Hunnicutt. Now the General wanted to talk to you."

"General?" Flagg said.

"Major General Hogan is visiting." Flagg nodded. "Go on, BJ," Potter said.

BJ walked to the office where Hogan chatted on the phone. Hogan nodded to BJ and then finished his call. "Doctor, I'll be leaving tomorrow. I'll take Newkirk as well. I have a shipment on the way for the camp's generosity."

"That's very kind of you, General." BJ flinched as a shot echoed. "Now if you could get rid of our snipers."

"I'll see what I can do."

Newkirk blinked as shots rang out. He looked around the ward and noted the wincing of the staff. He gestured to Klinger. "Klinger, has this been going on long?"

Klinger shrugged. "A week or so. That's what we hoped you guys would take care of. Snipers. They show up every once in a while."

Newkirk nodded. He laid back. Then he waited. When night came and the nurses were busy, he slipped outside, favoring his sore leg.

It took more time than he expected yet wasn't as difficult. His leg was the worst part, throbbing as he limped back into camp. He paused in the shadows as Hawkeye and BJ walked towards the Swamp from the officer's club. The dark haired surgeon laughed, tossing his arm around BJ's shoulders. Newkirk watched BJ's gaze never leave the older's man face. The sandy haired man opened the Swamp's door, gestured his friend _(lover_) inside the tent. Newkirk waited, watched as the men kissed and turned off the lights. He headed for Post Op. As he walked into the darkened ward, he saw Colonel Flagg talking at a Chinese patient. He paused to watch.

"OK, Ivan, tell me your name, unit, and where it is." The Chinese man stared uncomprehendingly. Flagg grabbed the man's bandaged arm. "I said, what is your name?" He squeezed the wounded limb and smiled as the man cried out in pain. Then ice stroked Flagg's throat and breath ruffled his hair.

"Let 'im go, mate," a voice growled. "_**Now**_."

"If that's you, you limey bastard ..."

"I said, let the man go."

Flagg breathed and Newkirk listened as footsteps echoed as someone ran out of Post Op. "You are a dead man," Flagg promised.

"Someday, mate, but not from you." Newkirk exhaled slowly. Flagg released the man.

Hawkeye stepped in the ward door and froze at the sight of Colonel Flagg standing rigidly by a patient bed with a long blade resting on his throat. The war correspondent held the knife calmly. "OK, everyone relax," Hawkeye said, heart racing. "Flagg, what's going on?"

"This idiot attacked me," Flagg sputtered.

"Newkirk?"

"He's torturing that man there," Newkirk said. "And, doc, tell your mate to stop where he is. I really 'ate people behind me." Hawkeye nodded.

"Beej, stop. Flagg, what were you doing?"

"I can talk to any prisoners I want," Flagg reminded.

"It appears you got a little rough." Hawkeye checked the Chinese man. "He's all right, Newkirk."

"Then take away the gun in his pocket," Newkirk said. "I don't trust him."

"This man may know where the snipers are," Flagg reminded.

"The snipers are taken care of," Newkirk said. "The sentries need to get them. And they're not ruddy Chinese, they're Korean."

"What the Sam Hill is going on? OK, son, why don't you put the pigsticker down?" Potter blurted as he entered Post Op.

"No problem, Colonel. Just keep this man away from me."

Hawkeye never saw the blade move. It simply wasn't there anymore. Newkirk stepped back and Flagg whirled. "Don't do it," Newkirk warned, eyes hard.

"You have no idea what you just did," Flagg snarled. For a long moment, the two men glared at each other, sizing each other.

"Enough," Potter ordered. He gestured and Newkirk stepped to his bed and sat down. Flagg trembled with rage. BJ walked to Newkirk and Hawkeye and Potter joined him.

"Your sentries need to get those snipers. They're tied up about 500 yards from camp." Newkirk kept his gaze on Flagg.

"You got them, reporter? How?" Flagg spat. "Just who are you?"

"I'm Peter Newkirk. I'm a war correspondent. London Sun Times."

BJ shook his head, looking at the wound. "You've popped stitches. I swear I'll sedate you."

"Just restitch it."

"Colonel Flagg, fill out a report with Klinger," Potter said. Flagg left and Newkirk relaxed as he left. "OK, son, just who are you?"

"I told you."

"A reporter that can take out snipers?" Hawkeye blurted.

"My office," Potter said.

"Can't," BJ said. "This leg needs restitching."

"All right, everyone to exam room." Potter gazed at Newkirk. "I want to know just who you are."

"I told you who I am."

In the surgery, BJ restitched the open wound. "So who are you?" he asked.

"I'm a war correspondent." Newkirk said.

"Colonel Flagg isn't playing with a full deck, son, but you made a bad enemy."

"Look, he's a ruddy power mad idiot. Military intelligence or not, he needs a bleedin' keeper."

"Who said he was military intelligence?" Hawkeye demanded.

"Anyone that crazy 'as to be military intelligence." Newkirk flinched. "Easy, there, doc."

"Relax. Congratulations. You've earned another day in our holiday hilton."

"I leave when the gov does."

"Who?" Potter asked.

"Hogan," Hawkeye said. "I have to check our Chinese guests before Colonel psycho returns."

"I'm trying to get an interperter," Potter said. "I'd like to try a prisoner exchange."

"The one with the broken leg is the leader," Newkirk said.

"How do you know?"

"I heard one of the other prisoners call him sir, treat him like a leader.""

"You speak Chinese?" Hawkeye blurted.

"No."

"They don't speak English," BJ said.

"I know a few phrases." The Englishman stretched.

"A war correspondent that takes out snipers and knows Chinese," Hawkeye said. "What isn't fitting here?"

"I _don't _know Chinese. Look, do you know Korean?"

"No," Potter commented.

"But I'm sure you know a few words. Yes, no, maybe a few food phrases. That's what I know. A few Chinese words. Are you done, Doc?"

"I am now."

Newkirk stood and BJ took his arm. "I'll be fine, doc."

"If you stay still, you will."

All the men turned as Flagg came into the room. "I have you, you British commie."

"Look, mate, why don't you go back to testing pencillin for red stripes?" Newkirk bared his teeth.

"You picked the wrong man, chum," Flagg snarled. "You haven't a leg to stand on. You're not even in the military."

"Actually, he is." Hogan strolled into the room. "Newkirk is my aide, Colonel Flagg."

"He what?!" Everyone looked stunned except Hogan and Newkirk.

Hogan smiled. "As of yesterday, Newkirk is my aide." He studied Flagg. "And I don't appreciate threats."

"He's not even an American!"

"He's my aide and my choice."

Flagg stormed out. Potter looked at General Hogan. "General, just what is this all about?"

"Just as I said. Newkirk needed a new job. I needed an aide." Hogan looked at Newkirk. "It works."

"Would you join me in my office, please General?"

As Potter and Hogan headed for his office, BJ helped Newkirk back to his bunk. "If Colonel Flagg bothers you, let me know."

"Thanks, doc." He studied BJ. "I'd advise you to do the same."

"Flagg isn't a problem for me," BJ said.

"Anyone like that is a problem for everyone." Newkirk tilted his head, wondering how to tell this man what he'd discovered. "I mean it. Just let me know if I can help."

"You really took out the snipers?" BJ asked curiously.

"They're alive. It wasn't that hard." Newkirk settled back on his bunk.

BJ shook his head. "You rescue your unit from the battlion, take out snipers, and get the drop on Flagg. Whatever you are, it sounds interesting. And despite what your comrades say, you don't seem clumsy."

Newkirk narrowed his eyes. "I am a reporter. That's it."

"You did what, Newkirk?" a solder asked. "You took out snipers?"

"I'm just a reporter, mate. Go back to sleep." He looked at BJ. "Good night, doc."

"Good night."

Hawkeye gestured BJ into the OR. "The snipers are being brought in. All are wounded."

"I'll scrub."


	7. Chapter 7

The three snipers all bore knife wounds. "Hell," Hawkeye swore. "He got this one right under the shoulder blade."

"This one, too," BJ said. "The arm is useless."

They repaired the three snipers, stitching the wounds. "He hit perfectly," Hawkeye fumed.

"Howdy, boys, how are things?"

"He took out all three the same way," BJ said. "Knife under the right shoulder blade."

"Hit the nerve?"

"Close. He rendered the shoulder useless." BJ looked at Potter. "So what did Hogan say?"

"He simply said he's chosen Newkirk to be his aide, his adjunct. I did speak to General Hammel. He told me quite clearly that Major General Hogan is to be left alone and questions are not encouraged. Hogan's record is near spotless." Potter frowned. "He's something. No aides, no real bureaucracy. I find it hard to believe he's a General."

"And our reporter?" Hawkeye demanded.

"Is actually a reporter. Joined the London Sun Times in late 1945. He covers wars, battles, and foreign news."

"Colonel, what reporter can do this?!" Hawkeye finished stitching. "And take out Flagg?"

"All I can tell you is what I found out. And we should be glad he didn't kill them." Potter sighed.

"I'd like Newkirk to stay another day." BJ finished his patient. "That leg is swollen again."

"I'll ask General Hogan." Potter stepped out and the two surgeons exchanged looks.

Hawkeye stripped off his scrubs. "You all right?" BJ asked.

"Mad. Wondering. I'm glad he got the snipers but I'm angry he wounded them." Hawkeye pulled on his fatigues. "Yet, Potter's right. He could have cut their throats."

"You know, what if he's like Flagg?" BJ asked.

"CIA?"

"Not if he's British but maybe he's a spy."

"And why here?"

"Let's take a look at his stories." BJ stretched his arms.

Potter found General Hogan in the Mess Tent drinking coffee. "You dropped a lot of jaws today, General."

"I know. But Newkirk and I work well together."

"That was a long time ago."

"I know Peter, Colonel."

"Speaking of who, what is he?" Potter sipped his coffee. "Just between us, General, he's not just a reporter."

"He's working a case," Hogan quietly lied. "Just between us. Newkirk doesn't handle small cases. He's broke several large stories that have't always been flattering to the military, British or American. And this wasn't planned, Colonel. It just happened and I'm glad it did. HQ has been riding me about not having an aide and Newkirk can use a break."

"Glad it worked out."

"Dr. Hunnicutt would like Newkirk to stay another day. And maybe you can keep him off his feet."

"No problem."

----------------

Hawkeye felt a warm hand on his arm. "Come on, Hawk." BJ gently shook him.

"Beej?" Hawkeye looked up. BJ grinned at him and Hawkeye smiled back.

_"_Come on, breakfast."

"Yay, spam and powdered eggs."

"We'll see." BJ chuckled.

"You're in a good mood."

"Um hmm. Let's go."

The Mess Tent smelled actually good. "Real food?" Hawkeye asked.

"Compliments of Major General Hogan," Klinger said from the line. "A whole truckload of goodies came in. Just what did you two do?"

"Reunited two old friends."

The two sat next to Charles, Potter, and Klinger. "And this is what we deserve," Charles said.

"Speaking of deserve, Charles, why aren't you chit chatting with Newkirk? After all, he could put you in his paper."

Hawkeye chewed his ham.

"Really, Pierce, like I want to be in a gossip column." Charles eyed him.

"Newkirk writes big stories," BJ said. "I thought you'd be near him simply because he's English."

"He's Cockney, Hunnicutt. Hardly my class." Winchester ate.

"Sorry. Forgot the Winchesters only associated with the House of Lords," BJ said. He rolled his eyes at Hawkeye. Hawkeye grinned. When Hogan appeared, people applauded and Major Houlihan escorted him to the table.

"This was mighty nice of you, General," Potter said.

"It's just a small gesture. I wish I could do more. Some food, a few movies, a few items isn't much."

"It's more than we usually get." Hawkeye studied the General. "Where's your shadow?"

"Newkirk? Post Op, I believe."

"There's a miracle," BJ muttered.

"You think he's bad for you. You should try being his CO." Hogan smiled at Margaret as she handed him the syrup. "Thank you, Major."

"Probably like being your CO, Pierce," Potter said.

"It must have been very difficult," Margaret said. "In a POW camp, I mean."

"It was different."

"Where they all American and British?" Charles asked.

"No. Stalag 13 held French, American, Canadian, British, pretty much any and all Allied forces. Even a few Russians."

"Was that rare?" Klinger asked.

"The Germans and Soviets didn't like each other, son. From what I understand, the Nazis treated the Russians pretty bad," Potter explained.

"Fortunately our Kommandant was Luftwaffe, not Nazi. The Russians managed to survive." Hogan sipped his coffee.

"As did the rest of us."

"Do you still keep in touch?" Margaret asked.

"With my old command crew, sure." He grinned. "You met Newkirk."

"He was in your command crew? But he was a corporal," Potter said.

"So?" Hawkeye asked.

"He's wondering why I didn't have officers. I was the only officer in Stalag 13," Hogan explained.

"What?" Potter looked stunned.

"It was an enlisted men's camp. I was the only officer. So my command staff were all enlisted." Hogan shrugged.

"I didn't know the Nazis separated the enlisted from the officers," Winchester said.

"It was rare." Hogan smiled. "We made it work."

----------------


	8. Chapter 8

While the medical team engaged Hogan in questions, Newkirk went to visit Flagg. Late that night, Hawkeye held BJ tight in the small bunk. With Winchester in Post Op, the Swamp belonged to them. BJ sleepily murmured and kissed Hawkeye. Hawkeye cuddled BJ close, breathed in his lover's scent deep. He didn't dare sleep but he rubbed his cheek against BJ's neck. When he could barely stay awake, he reluctantly went to his cot and fell asleep. He awoke hours later_. It must be around 3:45. Why am I awake?_

Shadows flitted and Hawkeye quivered. He stood sleepily, glanced at BJ and stepped outside the Swamp. He scanned the compound.

"You should be sleeping, doc." Hawkeye whirled as Newkirk separated himself from the shadows. Clad in grey green, he limped forward. "Walk with me."

"You should be in bed," Hawkeye hissed, thoroughly sick of this patient.

"Had to speak to Colonel Flagg. Tell you one thing, you Yanks should really mentally check out your CIA agents." He gestured and Hawkeye walked beside him. "Just a quick word, doc. Colonel Flagg is going to 'ave a few marks on him but he'll live. And you and your mate..." He looked around. "You really should wait until Flagg is gone before you bunk down." He cocked his eyebrow and Hawkeye felt the color drain from his face. "Relax, doc, it doesn't matter."

"It's considered unnatural," Hawkeye ground out. He looked back at where his lover slept.

"You're kidding, right?" Newkirk stopped by the motorpool. He scanned the area and looked at Hawkeye. Hawkeye noted his green eyes were clear, almost glass like in their luminance. "Unnatural, mate, is walking through a ruddy labor camp with troops and smelling the stench of burned corpses where the Nazis burned people in a furnace. You and BJ are far from unnatural." He grinned. "He should really change that name."

"You called me out to warn me about being caught?"

"I called you out to warn you about your friend. I've watched him, did some research. He's going to need you real soon."

"Research? Just who in hell are you?"

"I know people." Newkirk glared at Hawkeye. "Look, doc, that man loves you. And just from little I know, what I've seen and heard, that man doesn't love easily. 'E may have a wife and kid but he's yours. He helped me. And brought me and the gov'nor together. I owe him. So I'm paying him back by telling you. Take care of him. I already know he'll take care of you."

"BJ can take care of himself. And his wife and kid are his life!" Hawkeye snapped.

"His wife is having an affair."

Hawkeye stared at him. "How do you know?"

Newkirk shoved an envelope at him. "Took a walk through Colonel Flagg's briefcase. Nicked these. Do what you want with them but take care of 'im."

Hawkeye flipped through the photos and shook his head. "My God..."

"Flagg has notes on nearly everyone here. Watch yourself. I thought I should give those to you rather than let Flagg do it. I don't know what he was waiting for but I'm sure he'd use them in a nasty way."

"Who in the hell are you? Another spy like Flagg?"

"I told you what I am. I'm a reporter. I have a few skills here and there but nothing to write home about. I'm sure you're more than a doctor."

"In my spare time, I'm a drunk. Look, your skills aren't like --like playing golf or something. You took out those snipers and Flagg. You're some kind of pro."

Newkirk snorted. "Reading too many novels, doc. Ian Fleming aside, James Bond isn't real."

"Then why did you come here?"

"Because I was too bleedin' slow to dodge a mortar attack. Believe me, I never heard of this place before the unit I was assigned to got the job of cleaning out your snipers." Newkirk tilted his head. "You know, you're as suspicious as me."

Hawkeye jerked, wondering just how alike he and Newkirk were. "Thanks for giving me the photos."

"You're welcome." Newkirk began limping off, then turned around. "Look, if you need help, call me. I'll be with Hogan. I'll help."

"Can you end the war earlier?"

"I'll try."

"Why do you care?" Hawkeye asked. "You don't know BJ or me."

"I know Flagg. I know people of his type. And I've seen too many people like you and Hunnicutt tear themselves apart for stupid reasons when they should treasure what they have. You have it bad here. Believe me, doc, I've seen worse." For a moment, Hawkeye saw unknown horrors in the British man's eyes. "Just remember life can be good."

"Now you're a philosopher."

"No. And you can take my advice and throw it away. But your friend is going to need you." Newkirk started limping off again.

"Newkirk, Post Op is this way."

Newkirk grinned. "But my boss is this way."

Hawkeye's curiousity got the best of him. "What is your story with him?"

"He's my CO, my friend_." My ruddy heart_. "He may be an officer and a Yank but he's the finest man I ever met and I met a few." He studied Hawkeye. "Major General Hogan's the real deal. You heed what I said. Watch out for Flagg and take care of Hunnicutt and yourself." He slipped into the darkness.

Hawkeye went to his tent and laid awake.

"Thanks, Newkirk," Hogan said, stepping around a garbage can. Newkirk groaned.

"You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Come to my tent." Hogan pulled Newkirk's arm around his shoulders and helped him walk to his tent. "Getting pretty old if a small time MASH surgeon can figure out you're a spy."

"Don't be bleedin' cute."

The next day, Hawkeye and BJ walked Newkirk to the General's jeep. "You've been different," BJ said, shaking Newkirk's hand.

"Thanks. You, too." Newkirk grinned. "You two take care of yourselves." He rolled his eyes as Hogan neared with Potter. "Here comes the boss."

"Ours, too."

Hogan handed a crate to Hawkeye. "Something for you. I promised you something good."

"Hey, thanks. I'll tear up my bill."

Hogan grinned. "Come on, Newkirk. Our plane is waiting."

"All right, gov."

"Be careful of that leg," BJ warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Newkirk muttered. "Come on."

He slid behind the wheel and gestured to Hogan. The General shook hands with the men and slipped in behind Newkirk. Newkirk gave a lazy wave and they drove off.

Potter sighed. "Let's get back to work. Pierce, remember to share that hooch."

"Wonder where they're going?" BJ wondered.

"Come on, Beej, let's have a drink. I need one."

"Sure."

Hawkeye watched BJ stare at the photos, touch one over and over. "Guess I should be happy she has someone," he softly said.

"I'm so sorry, BJ."

"I have no room, no right to complain, Hawk."

Hawkeye bit back a snap. _She isn't in a war zone, Beej! And the notes say she started this affair a month after you left. That's different. We didn't get together for months! And you still write her every week_. Hawkeye swallowed hard. "I know it hurts," he awkwardly said.

BJ looked at him with his sky colored eyes, tears dripping down his cheeks. Hawkeye pulled him into his arms, held him close. BJ broke into sobs. Hawkeye kissed him, squeezed him hard as BJ's broad shoulders shook. Hawkeye shuddered, thinking of what Flagg would have done. "Will you stay with me?" BJ rasped finally.

"What?"

"Stay with me. Here. Now. Back home. Anywhere. Everywhere."

Hawkeye stared. "Are you joking?"

BJ looked at him. "Hawk, I love you," he quietly said. "I've loved you a long time. That's why I can handle this. You. I loved Peg. Then I met you. You're all I think about." He paused. "You don't have to answer right away..." His voice trailed off as he studied Hawkeye. "Oh, God..."

The sick horror in BJ's face was a look Hawkeye never, ever wanted to see again. "Beej, wait," he blurted as BJ struggled in his arms.

"It's all right," BJ snapped, yanking free.

"Wait, damn it. Of course I will, you moron!"

"What?"

"I'll stay. Forever and ever. If you'll do the same."

"I don't want your pity, Hawk."

"Pity? You complete jackass! Why do you think I was so pissed about Hogan? You're mine, you idiot! That's all I ever wanted!"

BJ smiled, a smile like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Always?"

"Always," Hawkeye vowed. BJ wiped his eyes hurriedly.

"I hear Maine is nice."

Hawkeye kissed BJ again and pulled the younger man back into his arms.

On the plane, Newkirk looked at Hogan. "So where we heading, mate? After we see your kids, that is."

Hogan grinned. "You'll like it."

"Where?"

"Ever hear of a place called Roswell?"


End file.
